You Could Be Great, You Know
by waitingondelena
Summary: Harry put his fate into the hands of the Sorting Hat instead of making his own choice, but now he's in Slytherin! Harry is a good Slytherin, but lately he's beginning to feel like he should have made that choice for Gryffindor...
1. Prologue

Harry stared at the inside of a hat that came well past his ears, past his nose even. He expected it to smell musty, as old hats usually did, and by his reckoning, the hat was thousands of years old.

But it didn't smell musty. It smelled pleasant, like leather and fabric.

But then, nothing in the world was what it had seemed to be, was it?

A month ago, on his eleventh birthday, Harry was whisked away by a giant man named Hagrid, who told him he was a wizard. Harry had had a hard time believing him, but he had seen the giant do magic, had seen a brick wall to open up and reveal a hidden magical market place.

He had even managed to make a stick shoot sparks out the top.

And now Harry was sure this all wasn't an elaborate dream, because here he was, at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, being sorted…

…by a hat. That was at this very moment, talking into his ear.

"Courage, hmmm, yes, quite a bit of that…oh and the talent! Magnificent! Just waiting to burst forth. Bravery runs very deep in your heart boy, great signs of a Gryffindor…"

Gryffindor. The hat had described the house as the daring, brave and chivalrous. Did Harry feel brave? He certainly didn't around Dudley, who beat him up on a daily basis. But he was here wasn't he? He had taken the chance to escape when he could, certainly something that took a great deal of courage. After all, it wasn't everyday you had to run into a brick wall…

And the bushy haired girl on the train—Hermione—had said Gryffindor was the best house there was. The boy Ron had agreed. But she said she wouldn't mind Ravenclaw either.

"Ah wit," the hat said in his ear, reading his mind. "Yes, no doubt about it you have plenty of that. But 'wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure'? No, not your philosophy at all. You're much more of a Hufflepuff than Ravenclaw…"

Harry remembered a scathing, sneering voice. "'If I was put in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, don't you?'"

Although Harry's opinion of Draco Malfoy wasn't high at the moment, he had to agree with him. Just and true? Harry actually snorted out loud. He considered himself true enough, but not so much that he was put into a house for it.

"Oh, I quite agree," the hat told him. "Although more a Hufflepuff than a Ravenclaw, a Hufflepuff you are not….hmm, interesting. You've got a great taste to prove yourself boy. Quite an ambition to push yourself above the rest here at Hogwarts. Want to prove yourself, do you? I remember another boy quite like you. Sirius Black was a tough one…"

Harry tuned out again. He wished the hat would just sort him. He seemed to be taking much longer than the rest of the First years had.

"I see two paths for you Mr. Potter, and either one could lead you the right way if you only committed to it. Which shall it be though?"

Harry sat silently. It was the hat's job to sort him, and he wasn't going to make his opinion known if the hat knew best.

"No say in the matter, eh? And I thought you'd be one to choose your own path too…"

Harry's eyes popped open. Wait, what? His own decision? But it was too late now. The hat had taken matters into its own hands.

"Better be…SLYTHERIN!"

The last word was shouted through a silent Great Hall. Harry shakily removed the hat from his head to find a sea of faces staring back at him, some shocked, some incredulous, and some incredibly worried.

"Is this a joke?" One of the Weasley twins finally yelled through the silence.

But it wasn't. Harry moved unsteadily towards the Slytherin table, home to the most evil witches and wizards to ever come out of Hogwarts, including the man who killed Harry's parents.

He reached the last empty spot at the table, only to look up at the sneering face of Draco Malfoy.

"Hello Potter," he said. "Welcome to the right table."


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

"Oi! Potter!"

Harry turned, smiling, to find Draco Malfoy heading toward him, Crabbe and Goyle in hot pursuit.

"Hey Malfoy."

"Hello Potter. Had a good summer, did you? Use any of those spells I taught you on your fat, muggle cousin?"

Harry thought of the spells Malfoy taught him at the end of last year. The one—Imperio—sounded like it'd be a laugh.

"Didn't get to," he said a bit regretfully. "Blew up my aunt though."

"Your muggle aunt?" Malfoy laughed. "Ah, good one Potter. Don't know if I'd want to blow up my aunt. Well," he scowled. "I'd blow up the one who married a muggle."

Harry smiled, studying his three friends. Malfoy, with blond hair slicked back on his head and an almost permanent sneer on his face. Crabbe, and Goyle, both muscular with short, bristly hair, although Crabbe was shorter and stockier than Goyle.

Three years ago, when Malfoy had insulted the boy Harry sat on the train with, he had sworn he'd never be friends with him. But perhaps he had acted too hastily. After being sorted into Slytherin, Malfoy had taken Harry under his wing, and showed him just exactly how things worked in the wizarding world.

"So where were you last night?" Malfoy asked, leading the way into the Great Hall. "You weren't at the welcome back feast that fool Dumbledore insists on throwing."

"I was out in the corridor with the First years," Harry answered. Malfoy shot him a look. "Hey, never too early to start scaring the little buggers. Had three of them crying before McGonagall caught me. Forced me to sit in her office the rest of the feast."

"That's all?" Crabbe grunted.

Harry rounded on him, shooting him a cheeky grin. "'Course. I'm the boy who lived. No severe punishment for me."

They made their way down to the Slytherin table, farthest to the right of the Great Hall. They all sat down and Harry lazily scanned the room, noting the other three houses and the teachers sitting at the table at the front of the room. There was one he didn't recognize sitting next to Professor Snape, who looked furious.

"They still think you'll be the one to vanquish the Dark Lord?" Malfoy asked, pulling Harry back to the conversation at the table.

"Apparently so," Harry answered, and he dug into the toast in front of him. "Although I haven't seen him yet, and I couldn't care less about him killing my parents…"

"Or muggles and mudbloods," Malfoy interjected.

"Sure," Harry replied a bit uncomfortably. He kept his head down as he buttered his toast. Malfoy had been trying to tell him for the last three years that muggles and mudbloods were no good, and the Dursley's certainly didn't try to prove him otherwise, but he still couldn't seem to wrap his mind completely around the concept.

"You know, being a Death Eater would—"

Harry looked up, startled. "Not here," he hissed.

Malfoy smirked but thankfully fell silent. If being a Slytherin meant being completely evil, Harry wasn't sure he could do it. He'd much rather leave those sorts of things to Malfoy.

"Hey," he glanced back up at Malfoy, who was twirling his wand in his hands. Both Crabbe and Goyle were oblivious, apparently intent on eating their entire half of the Slytherin table. "Who's the new guy?"

Malfoy lazily flicked his wand towards the Hufflepuff table, ignoring the yelp that followed. "Who?" he drawled.

Harry nodded towards the teacher's table and took another bite of his toast. "That one next to Snape. I've never seen him before. He looks homeless."

The teacher did in fact, look homeless. Even from here, Harry could tell his robes were frayed and torn, then patched over again. His brown hair was mussed and he looked extremely tired, like he'd never had a moment's sleep.

Malfoy sneered, and without even turning around he answered, "That's Dumbledore's new pet. He's supposed to be the Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher." He grabbed for the pumpkin juice and poured it into his Goblet. "Professor Lupin's his name. Bloody git."

"Well then what's Snape so put out about?"

Malfoy raised his head briefly to get a look at Snape's face, then turned his attention back to the pumpkin juice. "Wants the Dark Arts post, doesn't he? He should get it too. Father always said Snape was the best thing to ever happen to this school."

Harry looked back towards Snape and the new teacher. Professor Lupin caught his eye and attempted a smile. Harry scowled back and it instantly turned to a frown.

Well what was his problem anyway? Who was this man, to smile at Harry Potter? He shook his head and watched Crabbe and Goyle staring at their empty plates. They still hadn't figured out the food only reappeared at feasts.

"Honestly," Malfoy said, continuing on his favorite topic. "I'm surprised Father can find anything admirable about this rubbish school at all. I mean, that oaf, teaching Care of Magical Creatures—he assigned us a bloody biting book!"

"What?"

"Oh that's right, you weren't here last night. Dumbledore promoted that half-breed, Hagrid, to teaching status. A waste of our time, but I'm sure we can find something to do in the class, right?" He grinned evilly and Harry could imagine exactly what Malfoy thought of as a "fun time".

Hagrid. The man who had pulled Harry out of the seemingly endless hell he had endured with the Dursleys. As much as he tried not to, Harry couldn't help but feel grateful for him. These were feelings Malfoy assured him he would be able to vanish before he left Hogwarts.

Suddenly there was a commotion on the other side of the hall, where the Gryffindors were located. Harry craned his neck to see a large group of them gathered around one end of the table, leaning over something there. Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were even beginning to drift over.

"What do you think is going on over there?"

Malfoy whipped around to see what Harry was talking about. "Oh, wonderful. All my favorite people gathered in one place." He stood up. "Crabbe. Goyle," He snapped and they immediately dropped their food and followed Malfoy. "Coming Potter? I'm sure you won't want to miss this."

Harry dropped his half eaten toast back onto his plate and clambered off the bench after Malfoy.

"What's this?" Malfoy asked as he reached the group at the Gryffindor table. Harry noticed the abundance of red heads gathered around the table. No doubt it was the Weasley family.

Obviously Malfoy came to the same conclusion. "The Weasley's are having a party and they didn't invite me? You needn't have worried about the cost, I'd pay my own way. I'm sure the change I could dig out of my pocket could pay for your food for a year."

"Shove off, Malfoy," Ron snarled.

"No need to get defensive," Malfoy smirked. "I just came to see what could possibly interest a motley lot like this."

He grabbed the Daily Prophet everyone one was gathered around and shoved it in Harry's direction.

"Oh go brush your hair Malfoy!" one of the Weasley twins yelled.

"Yeah, gotta keep it healthy so one day it'll be as pretty as your daddy's," the other added.

Malfoy ignored them. "Read that out loud Potter," he instructed.

**Black is Back**

_ Sirius Black, prisoner of Azkaban Prison for 13 years, escaped his high-security cell last Tuesday and hasn't been seen since._

_ Black was known to be a supporter of You-Know-Who, and was arrested just after his fall for killing 13 muggles and one wizard, Peter Pettigrew, with only one spell._

_ The ministry is at loss to say how Black escaped._

_ "No one has ever escaped before you know," says Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic. "It simply isn't done. We've no idea how he managed to get out, and the dementors are not happy, not happy at all I'd say."_

_ Black is now being looked for by wizards and muggles alike, the muggle authorities being told that Black is "highly dangerous" and "armed", referring no to a wand but to the barrel-like weapons muggles enjoy using to kill each other._

_ Kingsley Shacklebolt, the auroror in charge of the Black case, had this to say._

_ "We're sure Black escaped for a reason. Whether it's to finish what his master started or to seek revenge, we don't know. Just be aware, be on the lookout, and contact the Ministry if you see any sign of him."_

Harry looked up dumbly from the newspaper, to find a member of all houses staring back at him.

"Sirius Black?" was all he could seem to say. The name clanged through his head, ringing a bell the entire way. He knew him. He had heard of Sirius Black, somehow, somewhere…

Malfoy looked positively gleeful. "You know what this means, don't you Potter? Oh, this year has just gotten so much more interesting."

Harry didn't know what he meant. How was the year going to be more interesting with Sirius Black escaped? Criminals escaped all the time in the muggle world.

"I don't understand," he said.

But it wasn't Malfoy who answered. Harry's attention was drawn to Ron Weasley, whose low voice could still be heard over the clanking of dishes and goblets.

"He's You Know Who's biggest supporter. He's escaped for a reason." He looked Harry straight in the eye. "It means he's after you."


	3. Chapter 2

Later in the week, Ron's stunning revelation about Sirius Black had been almost completely forgotten by Harry. How could he worry about one of the many supporters of Voldemort he'd never even met, when he was surrounded by thousands of shielding spells, a magical forest, impenetrable brick walls and some of the greatest witches and wizards of the time? He just couldn't be bothered. And frankly, according to Malfoy, he would be more useful to Voldemort alive than dead.

So it was with a light heart and a spring in his step (having just hit some Ravenclaw Second years with a harmless, yet hilarious Bat Bogey hex) that he met Malfoy in the Great Hall after breakfast.

Malfoy, on the other hand, looked like he was trying to decide if he should be scowling or grinning broadly.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked as he approached his friend. Malfoy scowled all the time, but Harry didn't think he'd seen anything close to a joyous smile on his face before.

"We've Double Potions with the Gryffindors today," Malfoy answered. "I was just thinking how best to take advantage of this."

"We could always just ignore them," Harry suggested as they started the long trek down to Snape's dungeon classroom. "I mean, we've never done _that_ before."

Malfoy frowned at him. "Something wrong with you Potter? There's a reason we've never done that before."

Harry shrugged. "It would certainly take them by surprise."

"Yes," Malfoy said thoughtfully. "They might even spend the entire lesson wondering what we might do."

"Exactly!" Harry agreed, secretly relieved at this development. Harry didn't enjoy hurting people for his enjoyment—he was just mischievous enough to pass off for one of Malfoy's gang. He avoided it when he could however. The occasional hex or spell on a passing First year was enough to satisfy him.

"But no," Draco said almost immediately. "This will be our chance to get back at that Weasley."

"What has he done then?" Harry asked, hastily scanning his memory of the past week. He couldn't remember any nasty encounters with Ron Weasley, except for maybe the whole Sirius Black episode. But Harry didn't spend his days glued to Malfoy, so he supposed he could have run into Ron sometime when he wasn't there.

"Well, it's more the fact he exists, if you know what I mean," Malfoy replied tactlessly.

Harry was taken aback, but wasn't all that surprised. Lots of people's existence offended Malfoy, and if he wanted to add Ron Weasley to the list, Harry certainly was in no power to stop him.

"And here he is now," Malfoy said gleefully, actually going so far as to rub his hands together. They had reached the outside of the Potion's classroom, and in typical Snape fashion, he was going to make them wait in the corridor outside his room until the last possible second.

Ron Weasley stood with Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan, waiting for class to start. Malfoy wasted no time in getting to Ron.

"Hey, Weasley, I heard your father won some money this summer. How many of your brothers did you have to use to carry your mother upstairs after she fainted with shock?"

The Slytherins behind Harry cackled.

Harry had heard about the Weasley's good fortune over the summer. Apparently the family was not well off, and when Ron's father won money in a Daily Prophet contest, they used it to go to Egypt.

He had never seen the rest of the Weasley family, except for one quick glimpse before he boarded the Hogwarts Express for the first time. As a matter of fact, Harry secretly envied Ron and his large, obviously loving family, and he had quite liked Ron's mum. She seemed nice.

Like he was going to admit that.

Ron did an admirable job of ignoring Malfoy, and instead turned to talk to Dean. But he couldn't stop himself from turning a deep, burning red almost the exact same color as his hair.

Malfoy was not used to being ignored. If he had had a Knut for every time he was NOT ignored, he'd be a very rich man indeed. So he tried again.

"Did you hear me Weasley? Maybe I should book you a room at St. Mungo's. You can share with your father, save you some money. My father's told me it's only a matter of time before he's put away for his abnormal love of muggles."

"Shut up!"

Everyone present turned in surprise. For it was not Ron who had yelled. It wasn't even Seamus or Dean. Instead, the yell came from a brown bushy haired girl, leaning against the wall of the dungeon, book in hand.

"Leave him alone," Hermione Granger said.

Harry watched Malfoy's eyebrows rise, and a gleam appeared in his eyes. Hermione Granger had never spoken to Malfoy before. In fact, the last time Harry had heard Hermione Granger talk, she had sounded like a conceited, self-serving little know-it-all. This was two years ago. Now she just sounded…lonely.

Malfoy took a breath, readying himself for his insult. And then…

"Nobody asked your opinion, you filthy little mudblood."

This ended the Gryffindor's lack of involvement in the situation. Hermione's face went deathly white, while Dean and Seamus had to hold Ron back to stop him from casting a spell on Malfoy.

"Take…it…back, Malfoy!" Ron grunted, struggling to get his wand below Dean's arm and at Malfoy's face. He wasn't the only one furiously trying to get at Malfoy. He could barely be heard over the yells and jeers of both Slytherins and Gryffindors.

Malfoy laughed, clearly delighted. "Have I insulted your girlfriend, Weasel? I wish I could say I was sorry, but filth like her is beneath me."

Harry watched as Ron managed to throw Dean off his wand arm, and reacted at the same time Malfoy did.

"_Petrificus totalus_!"

"_Stupify!_"

"_Protego!_"

The door to the Potion's dungeon swung open and Malfoy had time to throw Harry a disgusted look before turning his attention to Professor Snape.

Snape's deep, soulless black eyes roamed around the corridor and took in everything. From Hermione, still white with shock in the corner, to Ron, Harry and Malfoy's still raised wands. Malfoy and Ron's pointed at each other, Harry's pointed at the space between them.

"Why is it Potter," Snape's lip curled, "that I always find you in situations such as these?"

It was true Snape managed to find Harry rule-breaking much more than any other teacher in the school, but Harry didn't believe it wasn't without a conscious effort on Snape's part.

Because for some reason Harry couldn't fathom, that he didn't understand, Professor Snape undoubtedly hated him. The only thing to Harry's credit in Snape's eyes was his belonging to Slytherin House.

And Harry didn't even want to contemplate what kind of hell Snape would make his life if he didn't even have _that_ going for him.

"Weasley's been using me as target practice, Professor," Malfoy drawled. "He managed to hit my arm with a shattering spell."

Harry frowned. Ron hadn't even shot a shattering spell. And it wouldn't have mattered anyway, because he had managed to shield it.

"Professor, Malfoy—"

"I'll deal with you in a moment Weasley," Snape said. He took a corsetry glance at Malfoy's arm and tapped it with his wand, bandages shooting out the tip and wrapping his arm to the elbow.

"And what was Potter's role in this amusing farce?" Snape asked softly. Although his question was directed at Malfoy, he was looking straight at Harry.

Harry shivered. Snape had always had the most uncanny ability of making it seem as if he could read Harry's mind.

"Just blocking the spells Professor," he answered lightly.

"Professor Snape!" Ron exploded, obviously unable to stay quiet any longer. "There was a perfectly good reason for—he called Hermione a, a…" but he trailed off, obviously unwilling to say the word himself.

"A mudblood," Hermione's steady voice rang throughout the dungeon.

Snape sent a glance her way, but his attention went quickly back to Ron. "Whatever she was called, it does not excuse you from using magic outside of my classroom. Ten points from Gryffindor, and I think you and Potter should both join me for detention next week."

Harry shrugged. He was used to it. But Ron wasn't. "But Malfoy—"

"Did not break any rules," Snape finished smoothly. "Now get into my classroom and be glad I did nothing else to you."

Ron's mouth snapped shut and he shot a furious look at Snape's turned back.

The Gryffindors trudged into the dungeon, followed closely by the Slytherins, who were doing their damndest to step on the back of the Gryffindor's robes and trip them onto the dank, cold floor.

"Hurry up, as surprising as it may seem to you, I don't have all day." Snape swept to the front of the classroom and turned to face them. "I shall be satisfied if you retain even half of what I attempt to teach you today."

His eyes strayed to the table in the front left side of the room, where Harry sat with Draco, Crabbe and Goyle.

"Today you will be attempting a Calming Concoction. Make a mistake, and it will be poisonous and completely useless. Directions," he waved his wand and a list of ingredients and instructions appeared on the board behind him, "are on the board. You have an hour. Begin."

Harry began assembling his ingredients around his cauldron, making sure he had enough before he started crushing Sage leaves.

"Professor," Malfoy raised his left hand. "I'm afraid I can't crush my Sage with my injured arm."

"Potter," Snape intoned, "If you can manage to lower your celebrity status to that of us mere mortals, crush up Draco's Sage."

"Can't," Harry replied, quickly dumping his leaves into his cauldron. "I need both hands to stir. Unless you want it to go poisonous. Sir."

Snape's lip curled and his eyes flashed furiously, but he did nothing. Harry learned long ago that Snape didn't dare take any points from him while he was residing in Snape's own house.

Slytherin had won the House Cup for the past nine years, and the Quidditch Cup for as much time. Surely by now Snape was accustomed to having the Cups in his office and wouldn't do anything to jeopardize their presence there.

"Weasley," he snapped. "Collect your things and move next to Draco so you can assist him."

Harry slowly stirred his concoction, watching as Ron grumbled and moaned, making as much noise as possible while he dumped everything in his cauldron and made his way over to Harry and Draco.

"Bad luck, mate," Harry heard Dean whisper, and then Ron was standing in front of him, a sour look on his face.

"Move," he said sullenly.

Harry wordlessly slid over so Ron could set up his things next to Draco. "Is that supposed to be going orange?" he added.

Harry looked into his cauldron and stopped stirring. The potion inside had indeed gone a bright, shining orange. Looking at the board, Harry supposed he should have stopped when it was blue.

"Thanks."

Ron shrugged and began spreading his things out on the table.

"Hey Weasel," Malfoy sneered, "are you just going to waste my time while you try to make friends with your betters? Crush my Sage." He pushed the leaves over towards Ron.

"_Git_," Ron muttered. Then in a falsely sweet voice he asked, "Finely crushed, or ground to a pulp?"

"Whatever you want," Malfoy shrugged.

Harry sensed another fight coming on, and not really wanting another detention for breathing in the presence of magic or whatever Snape would try to pin him for, he spoke up. "Your dad works for the ministry, right?"

Ron looked up suspiciously from where he was furiously grinding Draco's leaves. "Yeah…"

"Carefully Weasley, we want dust, not pulp," Draco interjected. "And I'm not sure you can call it working for the ministry," Draco told Harry. "It's more like his father wastes space in the building to study muggle-made objects."

"Really?" asked Harry, actually interested in this. "That's actually—"

"If you start in on my father too Potter," Ron said lowly, so that Malfoy couldn't hear. "I'll kill you. I don't care if you're the Boy Who Lived."

"Professor!" Malfoy cried gleefully, "Weasley's ruined my leaves!"

"Give Draco your leaves Weasley." Snape's bored tone echoed across the room from where he was torturing Neville Longbottom. Ron furiously dumped his own leaves into Malfoy's cauldron and then took Malfoy's.

"So not like your father would know anything," Malfoy shot at Ron, "but my father is a personal friend of the minister, and he says Sirius Black was spotted in Cornwall the other day."

Harry made a noncommittal grunt to show he was listening, while he painstakingly measured out exactly two and a quarter teaspoons of beetle antenna.

"That's near here," Malfoy added. "So when he gets here Potter, what are we going to do about killing him?"

Ron yelped as Harry spilled his beetle antenna all over the table and onto his lap. "WHAT?"

"Potter!" Snape roared. "Double detention!"

Harry ignored him. "What?" he hissed again. "I'm not going to kill anybody!"

"Oh come on Potter," Malfoy scoffed. "He was one of the men responsible for killing your parents! If it were me, I'd be after him right now."

"Yes, well, you hold some level of affection for your parents," Harry told him shortly. "I never knew mine."

"Whose fault is that?" Malfoy's eyes glittered with an almost feverish light. Harry shot a quick look at Ron between them and saw he was watching them with undisguised interest.

"We're done for the day," Snape announced. "All of you put a sample of your concoction in a beaker so I may test it. If you drop any of it on my floor, I will force feed it to you, whether you managed to make it correctly or not."

Malfoy filled his beaker and moved off to set it on Snape's desk. Harry was just about to do the same when Ron's arm shot out and held him back.

"You're not really going to go after Sirius Black, are you?" he asked, his blue eyes searching Harry's green. Harry felt a sudden burst of anger. Why was everyone telling him what he should be doing all of a sudden? His best friend wanted him to kill a man, and this boy he'd sat on a train with once was warning him against it.

Granted, Harry had had the best time of his life in that train compartment with Ron Weasley. But he was a Slytherin, and Ron was a Gryffindor. If it had happened differently, perhaps he and Harry could have been friends.

But that's not how it happened so Harry said, coldly. "What's it to you?"

Ron's eyes immediately darkened and he slammed his books into his cauldron. Picking up his beaker, he snapped, "It may not have occurred to you, but some of us don't like to watch their classmates die due to their stupid actions."

Harry watched Ron march to Snape's desk and then out of the room with Seamus and Dean, wondering when something was going to go right for him.


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Several days later, as Harry roamed the grounds during his lunch period, things got even worse.

For as he sat outside a tree by the lake, the pleasant fall air turned cold, the sky grew dark, and Harry had the strangest feeling of never being happy again.

Looking around bewilderedly, he tried to find the source of the feeling and found it at once when he saw two tall dark figures gliding silently towards him.

Both were cloaked in dark cloth, none of their skin showing. They were gliding several inches off the ground and seemed to moving slightly faster than the average human being. Before Harry could look again, his vision went black and he heard the faint screams of a woman…

"Harry!"

"Wha—" Harry gasped and sat up, clutching his head when he went dizzy from moving so fast. For some reason, he had been lying on the ground. "What happened?"

The new teacher, Professor Lupin., was peering down at him, frowning. Harry scowled. Just his luck the new teacher would find him passed out.

"Dementors," Lupin replied. "Didn't they tell you to stay off the grounds?"

Harry grimaced as he clambered to his feet. "I missed the welcome back speech," he said by way of explanation. "What are dementors? What did they do to me?"

"They guard the wizard prison," Lupin answered, still frowning at him. Suddenly, he thrust his hand into his robe and came out with a bar of Honeyduke's chocolate. "Here. Eat this."

"The wizard prison," Harry said, taking the chocolate. "Where Sirius Black escaped from?"

"Yes," Lupin replied grimly. "Dumbledore hates them, but Fudge wanted the castle to be well protected." At Harry's confused look he added, "Fudge is the Minister of Magic."

"Yes," he said shortly. "But that was…what was that? It was weird. Like all the happiness was just gone." Then, suddenly remembering his pride, he added quickly, "not that I was affected or anything."

Lupin was eying Harry's hand, where he still held the chocolate, untouched. "You can have a bite of that you know. I swear it's the very best."

Harry glanced down at his hand, as if surprised to find the chocolate still there, and took a large bite.

Lupin turned back towards the castle. "Come along. Lunch is almost over, and I have no interest in fending off more dementors today."

Harry shuddered involuntarily and glanced over his shoulder, then hurried to follow Professor Lupin, straightening his emerald and silver tie as he went.

"Dementors," Lupin told him once they were standing side-by-side, "are creatures that feed off happiness. In doing so, they make you feel horrible, make you remember…terrible things."

Harry frowned. So far as he knew, he didn't have any bad memories concerning screaming woman, and he told Lupin so.

"I'm no expert," Lupin said carefully, "but I would venture a guess that you were reliving your mother's death."

Harry laughed. "That's very unlikely Professor. That can't have been a bad memory, I don't very much care that my parents are gone."

They had reached the Great Hall, and Harry nearly slipped on the flagstones when Lupin stopped abruptly and turned to face him. "You don't care that your parents are dead?" he asked, his voice sounding strange.

Harry felt uncomfortable and guilty, the first time he ever had when talking about his parents. "Well, er, I didn't know them, and I'm told my mother sacrificed herself, quite stupid really, and my father…" he trailed off when he saw Professor Lupin's face.

"I'll see you in class next period Harry," he said, then left him standing in the Great Hall.

"Er, right Professor," Harry said into the loud Great Hall, having the strangest feeling that someone disapproved of him. Well, someone other than Snape.

He didn't like it.

In fact, Harry had a feeling lots of people were disapproving of him lately, if the dark look Ron was shooting across the room at him was anything to go by.

"What was all that about?" Malfoy asked, appearing behind Harry's shoulder. Harry very nearly jumped, remembering his encounter with the dementors, but he managed to stop himself just in time.

"What was what about?" he asked cagily, wondering what Malfoy saw.

"You being best mate's with the new Professor. When he walked away you looked as if someone just crucioed your puppy."

"Had experience with that, have you?" Harry asked, avoiding the question.

"I might've seen it done," Draco answered. "Fine, avoid my question; we have Defense Against the Dark Arts next anyway."

"Do we?" Harry murmured. He was actually wondering if Lupin was going to end up being another Snape. He hadn't seemed the type, but the look on his face when Harry told him about his parents…

"What is with you lately, Potter?" Malfoy asked. Harry noticed he had begun walking towards DADA, and that he had failed to follow. "You've been all…strange and distant."

Harry shook his head. He had been acting quite unlike himself the past few days. When was the last time he cursed a First year? At least three days ago, when he used to do it once a day. "Where're Crabbe and Goyle?" he asked, catching up with Malfoy.

Malfoy's lip curled disgustedly. "Probably still eating. Honestly Potter, you may be the only normal person I let follow me around."

Harry thought he was probably the least normal person in the school, but he let Malfoy have the last word as they climbed the stairs to the third floor. "So do you think this one's going to last?" Harry asked. "The Dark Art's teacher I mean. You know, Professor Quirell being admitted to St. Mungo's for insanity and Professor Lockhart being run off by the teachers doesn't make the post look all that good."

"Father's told me the job is cursed. I don't really mind though, as long as Lupin is gone by the end of the year. Dumbledore has him on a leash like some sort of dog."

Malfoy and Harry joined the group of Slytherins at the top of the stairs and they all filed in to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, finding desks and stowing their things away.

"No, no, no, no." Harry turned to see Professor Lupin standing in the doorway of the classroom. "Gather your things back up, we're going on a field trip today."

"Prat," Pansy Parkinson giggled from the front of the room, but they all grabbed their things and followed Lupin out into the corridor.

"I have a special lesson for you," Lupin was saying as he led them through the halls. "Really quite lucky that I found one…"

Lupin was interrupted by a large burst of smoke, which made Harry's eyes water, and then a high, nasally voice shouted, "Why it's the slithery Third years!"

The group of Slytherin's coughed as Peeves appeared before them, wearing a large grin on his face. In his arms was an enormous amount of chalk. "Shouldn't be out of class, no you shouldn't," he cackled, and he began pelting the chalk into the group of them.

"Potty!" Peeves cried delightedly when he saw Harry, and he launched a whole box of chalk at him. "Cursed any ickly firsties lately?"

Harry, who had ducked so the box hit Crabbe, who was just coming upstairs with Goyle, replied, "Hullo, Peeves."

Lupin, who had been quiet this entire time, spoke up. "If you could let us pass, Peeves?"

"Loopy Lupin!" Peeves shouted, dumping his whole armful of chalk onto Blaise Zambini's head. He now looked as white as Peeves did. "Been visiting your tree Loopy? I know it's missed you."

"Yes I'm sure it has," Lupin replied calmly. "But we really must go."

Peeves ignored him, and he was now circling the group singing, "Loopy Loopy Luuuupin! Loopy Loopy Luuuupin!"

"Right," Lupin sighed and turned to the Slytherins, some still covered in chalk dust. "Well, I have a spell for situations such as this. Observe." He pulled his wand out of his sleeve, pointed it at Peeves and said, "_Langlock."_

Harry watched in amazement as Peeves' singing stopped and his eyes widened in shock. He pried at his mouth and made muffled sounds, before glaring at Lupin and zooming off.

"That was brilliant," Harry told Lupin.

Lupin looked faintly surprised and pleased at this, but he nodded. "Thank you."

"What did you do to him?" Malfoy asked, looking incredibly interested.

"I glued his tongue to the roof of his mouth. No, don't get any ideas. Now come along, we've wasted enough time."

Lupin led them through the school until finally, he stopped in front of what Harry thought might have been the staff room. He slid open the door to reveal a room filled with chairs and a large wardrobe towards the back. Professor Snape sat in one of the chairs in the corner, reading a book.

"Lupin," he said, standing up. "When you demanded my class time, I hadn't realized you would be using this room."

"Sorry Severus," Lupin replied cheerfully, looking not at all put-out by the death glares Snape was giving him. "We're going to be battling a boggart today. Care to stay and watch?"

"I fear that would be disastrous if I was to accidentally come face to face with the thing," Snape informed him. "And though I have no doubt my house will perform perfectly, with the exception of Potter, I dread watching Longbottom and Weasley come up against a boggart. So if you will excuse me." Snape didn't wait for a response before he swept out of the room.

Lupin flicked his wand and the chairs all flew to the sides of the room. "If you could all gather around the wardrobe?" he asked. The Slytherins gathered in a mass of silver, emerald and black around the wardrobe, which was now shaking violently. "As you probably heard me say to Professor Snape, I've got a boggart in there." Much to Harry's surprise, many of the people around him stepped back.

"What's a boggart?" he murmured to Draco.

Lupin, however, was getting to that. "Can anyone tell me what a boggart is? Yes, Miss Granger?"

Harry whipped around to see that the Gryffindors had arrived and had gathered around the wardrobe as well.

"Boggarts are hard to find," Lupin explained. "I was lucky enough to find this one in a broom closet on the fourth floor and relocate it here. Which is why I decided the Gryffindors would be taking their lesson with us today."

Nobody in the room looked too happy about this besides Professor Lupin, who continued, "So Miss Granger, what is a boggart?"

"A boggart is a creature who enjoys living in dark enclosed spaces. It's a shapeshifter, and it changes into whatever you fear the most."

"Precisely," Lupin beamed. "Mr. Longbottom, can you tell me why nobody knows what a boggarts true form is?"

There was a silence, and Harry turned around to look at Neville, as did everybody else. He had turned bright red, and seemed to be having trouble answering. Finally he stammered, "Because it's always trying to scare the person who sees it?"

"Yes!" Lupin gestured towards the front of the room. "Mr. Weasley, please come up here, I have use of your talents." As Ron made his way towards the front of the room, Lupin continued. "Now a boggart's greatest fear is laughter. In order to destroy it, all we need to do is force it into a comedic form. The spell for this is _ridikulus._ Come on, practice with me…"

The rest of the class obediently raised their wands and shouted, "_Ridikulus_!" Harry noticed the wardrobe was shaking much more violently.

"Of course it's always better to face a boggart with a large group such as this, or at least with a friend. Can you tell me why Mr. Potter?"

Harry tore his gaze from the wardrobe, surprised that he had been asked a question. No teacher ever did that. "Erm, because it won't know what to turn into?"

"Right, it will be quite confused. Imagine a boggart attempting to turn into a mummy and a griffin at the same time. It would look quite absurd really, and would fail to scare you at all. Now," Lupin said, turning towards Ron, "what is it you are most frightened off, Mr. Weasley?"

Ron gulped and glanced at the wardrobe, then back at Lupin. "Spiders."

Several of the girls in the class gave squeals of fright, but Draco laughed loudly. "I wouldn't laugh if I were you Mr. Malfoy," Lupin cautioned. "It'll be your turn soon."

"Right," Malfoy scoffed. "I'm not afraid of anything." Many of the Slytherins murmured in assent. Harry frowned. Just this morning he would have said he wasn't frightened of anything either, but the thought of those dementors, their harsh rattling breath and the horrible feelings that came with them…he definitely feared that.

Lupin smiled faintly. "We'll see. Ron, can you think of any way to make spiders more amusing?"

Ron blanched. "None."

"Can you think of anything you find amusing?"

Ron hesitated, then answered. "My dad brought in some cursed muggle stuff this summer, one of them was this shoe with wheels on the bottom I guess they use to get around." He shrugged. "It was quite funny watching him try to use them. He was always falling down."

Several stifled giggles echoes through the room. Lupin nodded approvingly. "Good, Ron. So when I open this wardrobe, the boggart is going to turn into a spider. I want you to think as hard as you can about those muggle shoes and say _ridikulus_. All right?"

Ron nodded. Lupin stepped back, pointing his wand at the lock on the wardrobe door. "One, two, three!"

On three the door banged open and a large, hairy spider scuttled out, pincers clicking, its six eyes fixed on Ron. Several people now screamed and Harry saw Pansy being held up by Blaise. "Now Ron!" Lupin shouted.

Ron pointed his shaking wand at the spider and managed to utter, "_Ridikulus._"

There was a deafening _crack_ and suddenly the spider was on rollerblades it's eight legs all going in different directions. There was a shout of laughter and Lupin cried, "Good, Hermione!"

Hermione rushed forward eagerly and there was another _crack_, the spider disappeared and replaced with Professor McGonagall, her stern eyes flashing, slowly pushing an exam marked with a large red "F" towards Hermione…

"_Ridikulus_!"

McGonagall was now in her animagus form, a cat, and was batting the failed exam around on the floor.

The laughter continued as Neville stepped forward. _Crack_. Snape appeared, gliding slowly towards him. "_Ridikulus_!" Snape was now in a dress, make-up covering his hawkish face.

_Crack!_

A rabbit was chasing its own tail.

_Crack_!

A banshee was clutching her throat, her voice gone.

_Crack_!

A Cornish pixie was colored like a rainbow, before, _crack_! A raging fire, _crack_! A bottomless pit, and then _crack_! The giant squid…

"Good, we're confusing it!" Lupin shouted. "You're next Draco!"

Malfoy stepped forward, a smirk already fixed on his face before _crack_! The boggart turned into a long, black cane, a silver snake with rubies eyes serving as the handle.

Malfoy stared transfixed at the cane, before yelling "_Ridikulus!_" It dropped to the floor, wiggling and squirming, at Harry's feet.

Harry raised his wand, preparing to say the spell, when…

"_Ridikulus_!"

Lupin had jumped in front of him, and Harry had time to see a glowing orb hanging in front of Lupin's dazed face before it cracked and shattered to the floor in a million pieces.

"Finish it off Ron!" Lupin demanded.

Ron ran towards them, and there was a crack as the spider on rollerblades appeared again, before the boggart exploded into a cloud of dust.

The class period ended, and Lupin had to yell over the excited chattering and clatter of the students getting their things together. "Well done! As you can see, we're all afraid of something. Now let's see, ten points to anyone who faced the boggart, and so Ron will get twenty for facing it twice, and then fifteen to Mr. Potter, Mr. Longbottom and Miss Granger for answering my questions correctly. Have a nice day!"

Harry walked next to Malfoy and out into the corridor. Both were heading in the same direction, although Harry was going to the Slytherin Common Room while Malfoy was headed to Ancient Runes.

"Can you believe it?" Malfoy asked. "The poor sot is afraid of crystal balls. What's so scary about fortune telling?"

"I dunno," Harry said. "Have you ever seen the Divination teacher? That old bat, Trelawney? She's scary. Follows me with her eyes whenever I pass her in the hallway."

"I suppose so," Malfoy agreed, but he didn't sound impressed with Harry's theory.

"Hey," he said, suddenly remembering something. "What was that the boggart turned into for you? A cane?"

"Don't be stupid Potter. It wasn't a cane."

"It was! Big fancy thing too, with a snake head at the top. Looked heavy." Harry laughed and headed off to the dungeons, leaving Malfoy sputtering behind him.

"I am not afraid of a cane!"

**Author's Note**

**So, I hope the story is picking up and Harry is starting to act a little less spineless. Updates look like they're going to be on Tuesday, but I'll let you know if that changes.**

**Please be sure to review!**


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Life at Hogwarts went on as it usually did over the next month. The only thing of note was the middle of October, when Malfoy showed Harry, Crabbe and Goyle, a diary he had found at his house over summer break.

It was in the Slytherin Common Room, where Harry was trying to finish an essay for Professor Binns on the Salem Witch Trials in America. Malfoy had just marched down from the dormitories, dragging Crabbe and Goyle with him.

"Take a look at that, Potter!" he crowed, dumping the diary onto Harry's essay.

Harry quickly grabbed the diary, but it was too late. The small book had smudged and smeared the still wet ink of his quill all over the paper.

"Thanks Malfoy," he snarled. He happened to be in a very bad mood, due to staying up late to write a two foot essay for Snape, and the History of Magic one Malfoy had just ruined was due next period.

But Malfoy, who snarled on an hourly basis, was immune to them. "Well? Take a look!"

Harry complied, thinking whatever it was better be worth his failing grade. What he held in his hand was a small, slightly battered black book. The stamp on the back proved it to be from a muggle stationary shop in London, dated fifty years ago. He opened to the first page, where there was a space for the author to write in his name. It read simply, "Tom Riddle."

Harry flipped to the next page, dated January 1st, but it was empty. He kept going through to January 20th, all the pages blank, before he looked up at Malfoy and said, "There's nothing in it."

"Right," Malfoy nodded. "Keep looking."

Harry flipped through the entire book, all the way to December 31st, but there was no writing anywhere. He shook his head, not at all mollified from the loss of his paper. "It's still blank."

"Exactly," Malfoy's eyes gleamed. "Do you know where I found that Potter?"

"I'm sure you're about to tell me."

"I found it in my father's study. Under the floor. Where he keeps all the really dangerous stuff."

Harry eyed the innocent looking little book skeptically. This was a Dark Object? Not that he'd ever seen one before, but he'd expected it to be more…sinister. "You're full of it Malfoy," he said shortly.

"Shows what you know Potter. That right there is a piece of Dark Magic." Crabbe and Goyle both nodded, looking like bobble head dolls.

"How do you know?"

"It was under the floor. With all the cursed things."

Harry had laughed and shoved the book back at Malfoy, and after it was out of sight, he didn't give it another thought.

So now it was Halloween. The castle murmured with the excitement of the feast, which was obviously more festive than the welcome back one. Harry knew the candles in the Great Hall would be interspersed with giant sized pumpkins Hagrid grew somewhere on the grounds.

When Harry slipped into the feast five minutes late, the Great Hall seemed louder, with a more excited air than the occasion called for.

"Has something happened?" he asked Malfoy.

"Some hag saw Black on the outskirts of Hogsmeade," Malfoy replied, referring to the all wizard community not a mile from the castle. "I guess he really is after you."

"Well that's not good." Though his tone was casual, Harry felt numb. Was he honestly going to be murdered? And by someone who had helped kill his parents, which Harry was beginning to feel as if he cared about.

How dare Voldemort deny him a child with parent's who presumably loved him? And this Sirius Black had helped. If Harry could remember but one thing about his parents, he felt he could understand and maybe love them. But all he had was his mother's scream, her eyes, and his father's face.

Not much he could go by.

"So are you going to go after him?" Malfoy asked. His plate was already piled high with turkey, cauldron cakes, kidney pie and crisps, so Harry began to help himself.

"Not worth it. If I have to defend myself from him, I'll do it, but there's no point in going to look for him."

"Haven't you got any backbone Potter? Of course, Black made sure you didn't have any parent's to teach it to you."

His parents. A mother who threw herself in front of a one year old baby when she herself could have been saved. Who did that? Harry felt his resolve harden. "No. I won't chase him. I mean, you wouldn't throw yourself in front of a killing curse for me, would you?"

Draco sneered and nearly chocked on his kippers. "Not bloody likely. Wait—what?"

But Harry didn't explain his question. He had proved his point. Nobody did that. Which made his mother stupid, or at the very least a fool. She had gotten what she wanted.

"I mean, you wouldn't do that for me, would you Potter?" Malfoy asked, looking curious.

Harry thought about it, and then answered as honestly as he could. "I don't know."

Malfoy snorted. "You wouldn't. Neither of us would do it for anybody. Which makes us perfect candidates for assassins. Or at the very most, Death Eaters."

Harry groaned and nearly slammed his head into the mashed potatoes in front of him. This was the seventh time Malfoy had brought up being a Death Eater. All Harry knew about the job was that you had to kill innocents and declare Voldemort your loyalty, neither of which he was keen for.

"No, I don't think Death Eatering is a good career choice for me," Harry told him for the millionth time. "I'm not that ruthless."

Malfoy scowled. "We can fix that, easy. Get you cursing a couple of muggles. We could practice on your cousin if you like—"

Harry slammed his Pumpkin juice down. He was fed up with all this crap from everybody lately. He hadn't even gotten to start his dinner before Malfoy started in on him. He stood up from his seat.

"Where are you going?" Malfoy asked, looking more annoyed that Harry was leaving while he was talking then that Harry was leaving at all.

"I need some air."

"Can't go outside," Malfoy pointed out. "Dementors."

Harry rolled his eyes. Now he tells him. "Fine, I'll just walk around the castle then."

He climbed over the bench and made his way out of the Great Hall, climbing up the first set of stairs he met. Traveling absentmindedly through hidden corridors and disguised doors, Harry contemplated what was happening.

He was just so confused. He was pretty sure he felt nothing for his parents, but then Professor Lupin made him feel that maybe he did. And then as soon as he was surrounded with Slytherins again, the feeling was gone, but he knew it was waiting to come back.

And Harry did not want to be a Death Eater. He knew he wasn't evil. But what other path was there for a Slytherin to take?

Suddenly he slipped and almost fell, catching himself just in time. Taking note of his surroundings, he realized he was on the third floor, near the girl's lavatories.

"What the?"

He looked down and saw the stones were completely flooded, water seeping out under the lavatory door. He knew this bathroom was frequently flooded, and he usually tried to detour around it. But he had not been paying attention while he thought.

He glanced up at the expanse of wall next to the bathroom and gave a start. There, written in what looked like dripping blood, were the words, "_The chamber of secrets has been opened. Enemies of the Heir, beware_."

And even more horrible than that, tied to one of the light brackets next to the writing, was Filch's cat, Mrs. Norris, unmoving and as stiff as a board.

Harry had just moved to poke her, wondering what spell could have made her like this, when he heard the rumbling of footsteps below. Frantically, he looked around for a place to hide. Everyone was going to think he'd done this. Hell, he probably would have admitted to doing something like this a couple of days ago. But now, he needed a place to hide.

But it was already too late. Students had arrived at the top of the stairs, and some Ravenclaws were already starring in open mouthed shock at the wall behind Harry.

"What's all this then?" Harry heard Malfoy's voice loud and clear in the sudden silence. He saw students being pushed out of the way until suddenly, Malfoy was at the front of the group. "'Enemies of the Heir, beware?'" he read. A sneering smile appeared on his face. "You'll be next mudbloods."

Harry tried to edge over to the Hufflepuffs standing on his left, but Malfoy had seen him. "Potter! Did you do this? You didn't tell me you were related to Slytherin."

"I'm not," Harry protested, but he could already hear murmurs rippling through the group.

"Is that Harry?"

"You know only a Slytherin would have done something like this—"

"Is that Mrs. Norris? What'd they do to her?"

"—the chamber of secrets?"

"_Rip, tear, kill…so much blood…"_

Harry's head jerked up when he heard the hissing, cold voice, but with so many people gathered around, he could not find the source.

"What's going on here?" Filch's growling voice echoed over all the rest. "Get back to your dormitories. Stop clogging the halls!"

Filch's sagging, sour face appeared next to Malfoy, and then he was staring at the wall, mouthing the words as if he needed to shape the sounds to understand it.

He swung around to face Harry. "You're going to clean this up you—" and then his gaze landed on Mrs. Norris.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH MY CAT?" he yelled so loudly that everyone instantly quieted down and took a step back. "You did this Potter—"

"Like hell I did," Harry interrupted.

Filch ignored him. "—and you're going to pay!" he reached towards Harry and this time, as he darted backwards, he did slide and fall onto the wet floor.

"Argus!"

The booming voice rang through the castle. Harry raised his head to look up from the ground and into the blue eyes of Albus Dumbledore, hidden behind a pair of half moon spectacles.

He struggled to stand up and saw that Professor Dumbledore was accompanied by Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape. Snape was wearing the usual sneering, disgusted look he seemed to develop when ever Harry was near, and McGonagall's stern mouth was set in a grim line.

Harry had never seen Professor Dumbledore up close before, and usually only even noticed him during his speeches before the feasts. He was surprised to see that Dumbledore was older then he had first thought.

Harry blinked nervously. If the headmaster was involved, this would probably not go to well for him. "Professor, I—"

Dumbledore held up his hand, instantly silencing Harry. "I can't have you attacking my students, Argus," he stated calmly. "Now, what happened here?"

"That little rat," Filch yelled, pointing a shaking finger at Harry, "killed my cat and defaced the walls!"

"I did not!" Harry said hotly. "It was like that when I got here!"

"Good one, Potter," he heard Malfoy mutter. So even Malfoy thought he had done this? He didn't—he wouldn't. Did everybody think so?

"Minerva," Dumbledore said quietly. McGonagall moved off to the wall and set to work untying Mrs. Norris' tail from the lamp bracket. "Now Mr. Potter, how did you happen upon poor Mrs. Norris?"

"Perhaps we should ask Mr. Potter what he was doing up here while everyone else was at the feast," Snape said smoothly.

"I was down there," Harry replied defensively. "I needed to think. I was going to head back to the dormitories."

"Your dormitories are in the dungeon," Snape said softly, his black eyes glittering.

"Professor." McGonagall had finished untying Mrs. Norris and was now offering her stiff form to Dumbledore. He took her carefully in his hands and began prodding her gently.

"Well," Filch asked anxiously. "What'd he do to her?"

"Mrs. Norris appears to be petrified," Dumbledore told him. "She is still alive, just frozen."

"And he—"

"No Third year could have done this," Dumbledore interrupted. "Not with a spell."

Harry, who had felt a whoosh of relief, heard the insinuation in Dumbledore's voice. He also realized that the entire school was still watching him. Dumbledore seemed to notice this too.

"Come along Mr. Potter. We will finish this conversation in my office. Minerva, Severus, please get the students back to their dorms. I'm sure Professors Flitwick and Sprout will help with their houses."

He handed the cat over to Snape and walked towards the stairs, students automatically moving to the side so he could pass through. After a brief hesitation, Harry ran to catch up.

"Professor Dumbledore, I—well I'm Harry Potter, first of all, how do you do?"

"I know who you are," Dumbledore said, a hint of a smile touching his face. "But you will forgive me under the circumstances Harry, if I say I'm not doing too well?"

"Oh, yes, of course," Harry said, not to be deterred. "I'm sorry about that. But Professor, you don't think I did that, did you?"

"This is not a conversation for the corridors."

So Harry fell silent, and both headmaster and student walked through the corridors without conversation until they reached a statue of a gargoyle. "Sugar quills," Dumbledore said out of nowhere, and Harry, about to ask what he meant, stopped when the gargoyle jumped aside to reveal a set of circular stairs.

Dumbledore stepped onto the first step, and Harry followed. The door closed behind them and the stairs began to rise, until they reached the top, where another door waited for them. Dumbledore opened it and swept through.

Since this was Harry's first (and hopefully last) time in the headmaster's office, he took his time looking around. The room was shaped like a key lock, with rectangle shaped walls near where Harry was standing that eventually turned into a circle in the back. Steps led up to a platform on the circular part of the room where the headmaster's desk stood. It was large and beautiful carved, to match the comfortable looking chair behind it. The walls were covered in moving portraits of what Harry thought were past headmasters and headmistresses. And every flat surface in the room was covered with a spindly, spinning, noisy, light-up metal object.

Harry was examining one of these objects set near the door, trying to figure out what it was for, when he noticed that Professor Dumbledore had moved to the chair behind his desk. Harry hastened to one of the two chairs situated in front of the desk and sat down nervously.

At first Dumbledore just looked him, his fingers folded into a steeple beneath his chin. His eyes peered at Harry over the top of his spectacles, and the sadness and flash of regret he saw there perturbed him.

Harry was shifting in his chair, wondering if he should say something, when Dumbledore spoke. "So Mr. Potter of number 4, Private Drive, how did you come to find yourself on the third floor this evening?"

Harry was a little shocked that the headmaster knew his address. He was just one of hundreds of students here at Hogwarts after all. But he decided he would save any questions he might have for later and just tell Dumbledore what happened.

"You see sir, Malfoy and I were arguing about," he paused, deciding that telling the headmaster Malfoy wanted him to be a Death Eater was not a good idea. "Well, about something and I had to get some air but I couldn't go outside due to the dementors—which I agree with you sir, Professor Lupin tells me you think they're horrible—so I was just walking, and I guess I was distracted because all of a sudden I tripped and there was water on the ground and then…you know, there I was."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with amusement. At the very least Harry expected another question, but what he got was, "I'm sorry Harry."

"Sorry, sir?" Harry asked, feeling a bit stupid. "But you did nothing wrong."

"I did Harry, I did. I made a very grave mistake. I should have introduced myself to you the moment you set foot in this school, but here you are at thirteen, only meeting me for the first time."

"Sir?"

"You see, I was a bit put out by the house the Sorting Hat chose for you," Dumbledore said thoughtfully. He waved to a shelf on his left, where Harry saw the old and patched Sorting Hat sat, waiting for its next group of First years. "Forgive me for saying so, but as clever as I am, I did not foresee you being sorted into Slytherin. Looking back I suppose I should have noticed it would be a very great possibility."

"I'm sorry," Harry shook his head, "but I don't understand. Why would you have had to introduce yourself to me during my first year? You don't do that with all the students, do you?"

The headmaster laughed. "Oh no of course not. But not all students are as unique as you are Harry. You know why, don't you?"

"Because of this?" Harry asked, reaching up to touch his scar. The lightning bolt on his forehead that marked him for who he was.

"Quite. You know of course that you are the only known person to ever survive the killing curse, and that Voldemort is after you so he can try it again."

"Voldemort's dead," Harry said bluntly, hiding his surprise that Dumbledore used the actual name instead of You Know Who, as all wizards Harry had met did.

"Excellent," Dumbledore beamed. "You use his name. That's one thing I can rest easily on—at least you are not cowardly. Fear of the name only produces fear of the thing itself. But yes, Voldemort is alive. In fact, he was in this very school two years ago, trying to find a way back into his body."

Harry could only sit, stunned at this news. Voldemort was back? Had been for at least two years, and he was only learning about it now?

"Yes," Dumbledore said gently. "He is a mere wisp of a memory now, less than a ghost. He came into the school attached to the soul of Professor Quirell. Luckily I was able to stop him from procuring the means to secure a body, but I'm afraid Professor Quirell was damaged in the process. I do not know where Voldemort is now."

"Was—he still wants to kill me?" Harry asked numbly.

"I'm afraid so. He sees you as a bit of a challenge, now that he's failed to kill you once."

"And are you saying that if I had been put into a different house, I would have known about this years ago?"

Dumbledore had the grace to look a bit ashamed. "I think so, yes."

Harry sat silently again, trying to digest all that Dumbledore had just told him. Dumbledore left him alone and twiddled his fingers, stared at the ceiling, and at one point even started humming.

"I could have been in Gryffindor, you know," Harry said finally.

"Really?" Dumbledore said, sounding vaguely interested. "How fascinating."

"Yes. The hat said, well, it said it was having trouble between both houses I guess, Slytherin and Gryffindor, and it said I'd be great in both, if I did right. But," Harry gulped, remembering. "I guess it thought I was a Slytherin. I mean, it thought I would have a preference, but it's the hat's job to sort me right? So it put me in Slytherin."

Dumbledore had been listening intently to Harry's monologue, and now he leaned back to contemplate the skinny, black haired green eyed boy in front of him. "Did you want to be a Gryffindor, Harry?"

"Well, I heard it was the best house, and you were in it, weren't you sir? So yeah—yeah, I wanted to be a Gryffindor."

Dumbledore shrugged. "Then I don't see a problem. Be a Gryffindor."

Harry gave a start. "You can do that? Just switch houses?"

Dumbledore gave him a soft smile. "You misunderstand me Harry. Being a Gryffindor doesn't mean wearing scarlet and gold and sleeping in a tower dormitory. It means being daring, brave and chivalrous. Pull those traits forward, and simply be them more than you are a Slytherin. It's your choice, under your control." Dumbledore stood up. "Now Harry, I don't believe you petrified Mrs. Norris, but I still do need to investigate the matter."

Harry took his cue and stood up also, turning to leave the office. He had just made it to the door leading out of the office, when he heard, "Harry?" He turned around to find Dumbledore smiling at him.

"I am sorry for dumping all of this on you. We had a lot of missing time to make up for. And I'm afraid you don't know everything yet."

Harry nodded and pulled open the door, quickly closing it behind him and descending the staircase. He wasn't sure what he wanted—to be Slytherin or Gryffindor—but he hoped it would become clear once he had time to clear his thoughts from all he had learned today.

**Author's Note**

**Long chapter, action's starting to pick up. Hope you're enjoying it and please tell me what you think!**

**Please be sure to review!**


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"So who's the Heir of Slytherin?" Harry asked Malfoy on the way to Care of Magical Creatures a week after Halloween.

Malfoy shrugged. "If it's not you, I don't know. Probably wouldn't tell you if I did. All I know is, there's a monster, a chamber, and an heir. Father said the chamber has been opened before, and a girl died." He laughed. "I hope its Weasel's girl friend this time around."

"A monster?" Harry asked.

"Sure. Think Potter, an empty chamber wouldn't be too intimidating."

"Well what is it?"

"I don't know, do I? I'd have tried to use it myself otherwise."

Both Harry and Malfoy stopped short. At the end of the corridor, a group of girls were taking turns dropping their books and then bending over slowly to pick them up again.

"Do you know what they're doing?" Harry asked, cocking his head to one side, as if that would help him figure out the mysteries of the female species.

"Of course I do," Malfoy said. But he didn't elaborate.

A few minutes later, Harry and Malfoy were still watching, along with some other boys that had been stopped. "I'm really enjoying this," Malfoy admitted.

Harry was just about to agree when one of the girls detached herself from the group and made her way over to them. Harry managed to register red hair and brown eyes before she stuck out her hand. "Hello. You're Harry Potter, aren't you?"

Harry, who had already instinctively held out his own hand, now found it being pumped up and down. He managed to extract it from her grip and said, "Yeah I am."

"Be sure to wash that hand," Malfoy warned him, throwing a scathing look at the girl.

Harry frowned and looked at his hand. It didn't look dirty. "Why?"

"Please," he sneered. "Red hair, hand me down robes, and enough freckles to cover a hippogriff? This must be a Weasley."

"Ginny Weasley, actually," the girl said quietly.

Malfoy shrugged. "Doesn't matter. I didn't know the Weasleys bred females."

"I'm the only one."

"I remember you!" Harry cried suddenly. "You were at King's Cross that one time!" He grinned at the memory. "Did you ever get that toilet seat?"

Ginny's face lit up. "No, mum wouldn't let Fred and George send one. They brought me back some Quidditch things though. I did get a Gryffindor flag."

Draco laughed. "Is your family so poor now you have to steal toilet seats from the school?"

Ginny scowled at him. "It was supposed to be funny."

"Oh yeah, real funny when—"

"You're in Gryffindor then?" Harry interrupted. "Second year, right?"

"Right!" she beamed. "I just wanted to reintroduce myself, I have to get to Charms." She ran off to her friends, but not before she called over her shoulder, "You're not at all as bad as my brother said you were."

Harry frowned. He hadn't thought Ron hated him that much. Or was she talking about Fred or George? Or Percy? Malfoy was right, the Weasleys had too many damn family members.

"What was that?" Malfoy asked Harry.

Harry grabbed the shoulder of his bag, which was slipping, and yanked it back up again. "What was what?"

"You know," Malfoy said, with a nod towards the retreating group of girls. "_That_. What are you doing making friends with a Weasley?"

"She just came up to talk to me," Harry said, slightly annoyed. "Why did you have to insult her? And if you say because she exists, I'll have to punch you."

"Whatever Potter," Malfoy shook his head, clearly disgusted. "Get your sense straight and come to me when you understand the way the world works." With these parting words, he stomped down the stairs.

Harry frowned at his retreating back. He had felt no inclination what so ever to tease Ginny Weasley. And he had felt angry when Malfoy tried to.

Was that what Dumbledore meant about replacing his existing traits with ones he wanted?

"Hey-Potter!"

Harry turned towards his name, surprised to see his second Weasley of the day marching towards him.

"Hullo Ron."

Ron scowled, as if annoyed by the fact that Harry was talking to him. But he was the one who started the conversation.

"Don't call me that," he snapped.

Harry was confused. "Ron's your name, isn't it?"

"Yes. But we're not friends. Just like I don't call Malfoy Draco."

Harry grinned. "Neither do I. Are you saying you hate me, Ron?"

Ron glowered at Harry's blatant use of his name. "Look, were you talking to my sister just now?"

"Erm yeah," Harry said. He looked around. "Am I being spied on?"

"Look Potter," Ron snapped. "Just stay away from her. She's got a bit of a celebrity crush and I don't need you leading her on and then stomping on her heart."

"What?" Harry asked incredulously. I'd never do anything like that!"

He was actually very offended. What kind of guy did Ron think he was?

"You're a Slytherin," Ron pointed out.

Oh. Right.

"Just stay away from her," Ron warned, and then he marched down the same stairs Malfoy had just disappeared down. A few moments later, Harry followed.

Well, at least now he knew which brother didn't like him.


End file.
